


Disappear into the Sun

by dawniekins18



Series: Liability [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Domestic Discipline, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Past Child Abuse, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10464333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawniekins18/pseuds/dawniekins18
Summary: Dr. Greene wants to keep Dr. Tucker from making the same mistake he did.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a back story for my character Dr. Mark Greene in Tobias and Tucker. Yes, he is named after an ER character, but that is where the similarity ends.
> 
> This should be read after Chapter Four of my story, Tobias and Tucker.

A lot of people walk thought emergency room doors, but not many of them haunt Dr. Greene like Devon does. 

He was a third year resident when they met- young and stepping into his newly cynical shoes, but they weren't comfortable yet. He still had hope. He still believed what his patients told him, at least part of the time.

But Devon...he was charming, and Dr. Greene thought he could let him under his skin, that he could help him. 

It's never that simple.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
February 2002

"We gotta twenty-something kid in the waiting room, looks like he's been roughed up. You want him?" His intern examines the patient board. 

"Yeah, grab him. I just released the head-lac, and the other choices are geriatric nightmares. I have enough of those already waiting on test results."

"Cool, I'll set him up in curtain three."

Matt nods and goes to grab a cup of coffee. These all-nighters are the best practical experience, but they are fucking killer. He decides to let his intern play doctor while he takes a break. He trusts him, and he can consult after the diagnostics- let the newbie flap his wings.

He takes ten and eats an old donut, slouched in the most comfortable chair in the lounge. After his short break, he grabs a few charts, updates his cases and checks on some scans. Then he takes another fifteen minutes to deliver some bad news, and sends a sweet Grandma up to the ICU. 

By the time he swings by curtain three, he's a little nervous about what he's going to find there. James is good at his job, but he's only been flying solo for about a month in the triage department.

The man on the gurney is young, early twenties, and there are cuts and bruise scattered across his face. Surprisingly enough, there is also a smile there. 

"Hey, you the Doc that James mentioned?"

"Yes, I'm the senior resident supervising Dr. Wilson tonight. Can you give me a summary of what happened?"

"Nothing special. Got jumped by some assholes getting off the T. Typical Orange Line bullshit, always watch your back at Jackson Square."

"Hmmm. Are you having any pain around your eyes?" He uses his flash like to check their reaction time. His pupils look good, kid might be a little high but he's lucid.

"Nah, my left side is hurting like a bitch though, maybe I cracked something?"

"Possible. We can get an X-ray if you want. But I'd say at the worst, it's a small fracture. For ribs, my best advice will be to take it easy for a couple weeks to allow your body to heal. We can give you some prescription aspirin, but you'll do fine healing at home."

"That's what your lackey said." The kid smirks at Wilson who gives a weak smile in return. The patient 'personality' aspect of the job still coming as a challenge for him. 

"Well he's been trained by the best. Dr. Wilson, you want to give Mr..." He looks down at the chart, trying to find a last name.

"I just go by Devon."

Matt can't help but internally sigh. One of the joys of the Boston Medical ER, a lot of people are unwilling to give their full name. Luckily, he can see them here. The hospital, where he did his med school rotations, wasn't as generous.

"Alright. Dr. Wilson will finish patching you up, and we'll get you on your way."

He runs the case by his attending on the floor and gets the discharge papers processed. He's seen a lot of people come and go in worse shape than this kid, and honestly, if this is where they last met, he never would have thought of him again.

But Boston is smaller than most people realize.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

April 2002

"Hey! Hot doctor!"

Matt's head snaps up, looking around the crowded street curiously.

"Over here!" There's a young guy waving at him from across the street as a group of runners fly by.

"Who's that?" His friend Connor asks laughing as the obviously drunk kid makes gestures toward where police are crossing people when there's a lull.

"I don't know. Must be someone from the hospital." He shrugs.

"He's cute." Cute is an understatement, the kid's fucking gorgeous. A little small, lithe like a swimmer, but he's got a bubble butt to die for, and golden blonde hair.

If Matt had a type, he checks all his boxes.

"I guess I should be polite?"

"Yeah, polite, that's what you're being." Connor chuckles as Matt walks toward where the guy is frantically gesturing.

"You fixed my ribs!" The kid yells as they finally meet at the makeshift crosswalk. 

"Did I?"

"Yeah, you fucking did! It's was cold as tits, and all you gave me was shitty prescription aspirin. Good thing you're so good-looking, it was like Vicodin just to jerk off to the memory of you when I got home."

"Oh yeah, you got jumped at Jackson Square." Matt nods as the vague memory flits through his mind. He hadn't remembered him as beautiful as the man in front of him now, but he thinks the kids was thinner that night and covered in bruises.

"I'm Devon!"

Yeah, the Cher-like first name shtick. Had he always looked this young?

"You wanna get a drink?"

"I don't know, Devon, seems like you've had enough."

"Come on, my spank bank need refilling. We can have some water." He grabs Matt's hand and starts dragging him toward one of the many bars lining the street."

"That's a little descriptive." Connor's probably already cruising his own twink. He won't miss him, and Devon is fucking hot. 

And it's not like he's his real doctor.

"I don't beat around the bush, literally or figuratively." He responds flicking his blond hair out of his eyes and sending Matt a lewd wink.

"Calm down, bud. Let's exchange more than five words."

The bar is packed, but they manage to find a seat crushed into the corner. The marathon is always crazy, but everyone loves it here. He's had to work the last two years, and he's excited to see what all the fuss was about. And he's pumped to not have to deal with the huge amount of patients this shit brings to the ER. Last year, he ended up working a fifteen hour shift.

"So, you've been watching your back better on the Orange Line?" He awkwardly asks after ordering a beer. Devon sticks to his word and orders a pop. 

"I try, doc. But you never know what you're getting into in JP and Dorchester." 

"That's a rough area."

"Yeah, rent's a fucking steal though."

"How're you paying the bills, if you don't mind me asking?" Matt eyes the small man sitting in front of him. Kid doesn't seem like the type to work a day job.

"I'm a performer."

"Really? What'd you do?"

"Many, many things, mostly dancing."

Matt's face must be questioning because Devon shoots him a wicked smile. "Exotic dancing, mostly. I work at a night club."

"Ah."

"It's cool. Pays a lot. And makes it so I can afford my meds."

"Meds?"

"Yeah, fucking bipolar. It's a fucking bitch, but it's better when I can buy my shit." 

"You really shouldn't be mixing those medications with alcohol."

Devon laughter is loud, and attracts the attention of the people crowded around them. It's a great laugh. "That's what I get for hitting on a fucking doctor."

Matt can't help but let his eyes linger on the kid. He's a handful. Mentally ill and probably up to his adorable ass in unsavory shit. But there is an honesty about him, a vulnerability. 

He's a mistake Matt can see himself really enjoy making. 

And he can help him out. Check the meds he's taking, be a stable force- however long their interactions last. With one last gulp of his beer and a deep breath, he decides to lean in. He's been looking for something more than random one night stands, and he feels a connection here. Even if ends up being a casual one. 

"You wanna get outta here, head back to my place?"

Devon gives him a long look, smile spreading warmly across his face. "Lead the way, Clooney."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 2002

"Devon, are you awake?"

Matt slams open the door to the run-down apartment, taking in the trash and clothes scattered across the floor. He'd just cleaned this place last weekend.

"Ugh. I knew I should have fucking locked the deadbolt." The voice comes from under the pile of blankets on top of the mattress in the middle of the floor.

"Where have you been? You were supposed to meet me an hour ago."

"I regretfully send my decline for whatever it is I'm missing."

"You're missing the movie you picked out."

"Damnit." Devon's head pops up. "It took a lot to convince you to see the Ya-Ya Sisterhood."

"Yeah, I don't see me showing up for a second attempt."

Devon sighs, and he looks lost on the large mattress. "I don't know why I couldn't get up. I just...felt stuck."

"You taking your Lithium?"

Devon shrugs and falls back, "Doesn't seem to matter either way anymore."

"You should come in tonight during my shift. You can talk to one of the professionals, check your dosage."

"Or I could not."

Matt pauses. He never knows how much to push. Their thing is fragile, and Devon, who is usually sweet and pliable, can turn into an angry cat if Matt tries to interfere in stuff he doesn't like to talk about.

Like his job, his past, and his mental health.

Matt is still celebrating the victory of learning his real last name. 

"I don't want to go all doctor on you, Mr. Wyatt."

"Then don't."

"But you seem to be dealing with a re-occurance of your symptoms."

"Jesus."

"In fact, I might label this a depressive episode."

With that, Devon is on his feet, slamming around the one-room shit hole, muttering under his breath. "Thinks he can fucking diagnose me because I let him fuck me. I'll show him a 'depressive episode'."

Matt can't help but smirk as he hears the water pressure turn on. Devon is stubborn to a fault, but he also is responsive to Matt. They get each other, and despite all the things working against them, they seem to fit together too.

While the water runs, he quickly fills up a hamper and a trash bag. This place is in one of the worst neighborhoods, and Matt's made it his personal mission to keep out the rodent and roach infestation that seems inevitable.

He knows it's too soon, but he'd sleep a lot better if Devon moved into his apartment in Back Bay. He has two roommates, but they wouldn't mind. He has a decent sized room to himself. 

They'd be happy there. He could take better care of Devon if they lived together.

But Devon is skittish, and their relationship is slightly unorthodox. Matt doesn't want to scare Devon off as they ease into this because he knows they both want it. And Devon really needs it.

"I'm dressed, see? All clothed and clean. Not needing any doctors. Not needing anything at all."

"Hmmm," Matt reaches out and gently grabs Devon's wrist, leading him to the one chair in the entire place.  
"What have we said about calling?"

Devon shifts trying to move away from him, separate from the situation. "I don't remember."

Matt raises an eyebrow, "Really? Because we only made our rules a week ago. It seems strange to me that someone who could recognize a doctor they'd had over two months ago from across the street, can't remember something they talked about a week ago."

"Funny how memory works. One of the great mysteries of our time."

"Devon."

"If I'm running late, or don't feel like I can make it anymore, I need to call you. You won't be mad, you understand the disease, you'd just like to not have to worry that I'm hurt or something worse."

"Right. And what did we say would happen after the Thai place last Tuesday?"

"I'd be punished."

"Yes, I did say that." Matt keeps his arm loosely wrapped around Devon's waist as he tries to squirm within his grasp.

"It's ok, honey. We're still talking. You'll know exactly what I'm going to do. You don't need to be nervous."

Devon stills, but Matt can feel how tense he still is. 

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are. But if I keep letting this go, you won't trust me to hold you accountable."

"I'll trust you." Devon mutters, fiddling with one of Matt's hands, holding it against his own, much smaller limb.

"No you won't, baby. And that's why you're gonna write me two pages. Tell me what you were feeling this morning, and what happened that lead to me standing outside a movie theater, upset that I'm missing a mother-daughter film."

"It has Maggie Smith in it, you know. She's amazing. "

"I'm sure she is. I would have loved to see her in it. You can tell me all about her while you're writing to me. Those pages will be front and back, bud. You'll have room for a Maggie Smith paragraph. But now, you're dressed. I'm dressed. Will go get some lunch and you can come with me to work so I can watch your progress, and you can chat with Nancy."

"Ugh, can't I just go to your place?"

"No. You said there wasn't any point in taking your lithium. That's a talk with Nancy, and we can discuss it further at my place tonight. Now scoot, grab what you need."

Matt watches Devon fill a backpack with a change of clothes and a notebook.

"You're lucky I don't have work tonight." 

Devon's job at the club is a dangerous topic in their relationship. Matt is trying to figure out how to make him quit without seeming like a crazy controlling boyfriend.

But they're both still figuring out this dynamic. 

He has time. They'll get there.

**Author's Note:**

> I really felt like I needed to give a back story on this character so he wouldn't look like he's abusing his power quite as badly as he actually his in Tobias and Tucker. He needed...reasons. 
> 
> The name thing will be explained.


End file.
